


Start It All Over Again

by narrymestyles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:55:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narrymestyles/pseuds/narrymestyles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forever's just a word and it's nothing without him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Start It All Over Again

**Author's Note:**

> just before you read this- ao3 doesn't let me do fancy italics and bolding, so if you want to read this the way it was originally written you can find it here: http://www.wattpad.com/13397479-start-it-all-over-again-narry
> 
> this is the first time i've written something like this so i'd love some feedback x

His curtains are open and there’s moonlight streaming through the windows but it’s too bright for his sore eyes and it lights up all the uneven, broken parts of his body and his skin is too white, too pale, too imperfect and his fingers are rough and calloused and he’s quite sure if he looks long enough he’d see the jagged line that splits his heart. It’s too dark, really, but it’s been a while since he’s properly appreciated light. There’s an ice cold chill creeping through the open crack in the window that he didn’t bother to close, and his duvet is curled up around his feet but he prefers letting the slithers of ice capture his body, because he finds that coldness is the only way in which he can ever fall asleep. He finds a calamity in sleep that most people find curled up in a blanket watching their favourite TV show, because dreams take him to places he can’t go in real life, and he finds they’re the only places in which he’s truly happy anymore. So when he feels his fingers go numb and his toes protest in frostbitten agony, he smiles because he know’s he will soon succumb to the inevitable. But tonight, tonight he finds the moon is too bright and the stars form perfect constellations in the sky that spell out the name of one he’s long lost, one he’ll never find and he can almost see his crooked smile written on their surfaces, beaming at him in all it’s glory they way it used to. He can see his emerald irises floating among them, green like a forest made of mist-woven vines and mixed palettes of teal and gold. And he can hear his throaty laugh ringing among the quiet buzz of cars rushing by, running to a destination he fears they’ll never quite find. And the sound is too loud, too full of heartbreaking memories and golden days and he pulls his hands to his ears and presses them down tight, praying to a God he doesn’t believe in to make the noises go away. But suddenly he’s on stage again, and he’s wearing a white vest that hangs a little too low the fans like it, he remembers Caroline saying and he’s smiling into a crowd of over 20,000 people and they’re all holding their phones in the sky and they’re making constellations that match the milky way and they’re all singing; he can hear their off-tune voices reverberating around the arena and there are tears of joy in his eyes because this is his life and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. And he’s holding his microphone tightly in his hand, clutching on to it because his life did depend on it and his accoustic guitar hangs lightly over his shoulders. And theres Liam and Louis and Zayn and- and it cuts off before he can finish, suddenly all he see’s is black and he’s choking, choking on sobs that he’s repressed all these months, crying out to see that face again. But everything’s dark and the stars have vanished and all he hears is the creeping tone of a familiar song and its faint and quiet but he can hear it. 

*Said I’ll never leave her cause her hands fit like my t-shirt, tongue tied over three words, cursed*

His mind flashes to the first time show they’d ever performed alone in September 2011 on Red or Black. He remembers their mortification, they were all so scared but so excited but most of all he remembers him and how he’d told everyone it’d be fine and there was nothing to be nervous about because as long as they tried their hardest nothing would go wrong but Niall could see the hesitance in his eyes, had seen it and memorized it for later, writing a little note in the notepad of his mind. And when they were alone he had pulled him aside, behind the dressing curtain and hugged him, held tightly onto the t-shirt he was pretty sure was his, and whispered in his ear that he would be proud of him no matter what and had pulled back to be surprised by rosy, plump lips crashing onto his. The kiss was innocent, sweet but the sincere emotion it encased had brought tears to the Irish boys’ eyes and he knew that everything would be okay. 

He remembers post-show, him running off stage the minute that he could, beelining to the bathroom without speaking a word to any of them. He remembers his furious attempts to break down the door, to get to him before he broke down, to hold him tight and rub circles in his back. He remembers how he sat outside the bathroom until the door creaked open to reveal a curly haired seventeen year old with swollen red eyes and a puffy nose, remembers standing to pull him into an embrace that didn’t need words. He remembers his bandmates entering the room, running towards him and telling him that they don’t know why he’s so upset because they think he was absolutely brilliant but he especially remembers how he kept shaking his head in protest, no no no it was terrible I was shit I fucked up and I’m so sorry.

And then it was black. He’d seen the eyes, and the curls and the nose but they’d been blurry and confused and they quite frankly could have belonged to anyone and all Niall wants is to see that smile properly one more time but he’s trapped in a curse. 

*Running over thoughts that make my feet hurt*

He’s running, running fast and hard and there’s an inevitable giggle escaping his lips and there’s a cool breeze ruffling through his dirty blonde hair and it’s falling all over his face but he doesn’t mind. The park is empty and green, trees spotting it’s midst like polka-dots on a ladybirds back and he’s so content he wants to scream. His lungs long for oxygen, they’re crying in agony but he keeps his breath short and furious as he hears the closening footsteps from behind him but he doesn’t think he can run any faster and suddenly he feels a weight on his back and he’s on the floor. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to recognize him, soft curls tickling his forehead and Armani cologne wafting through the air, he can only squirm in delight when he feels cold lips at the nape of his neck. His eyes are still closed, sucking in the sunlight and the breeze and the robins chirping from trees nearby and him. He’s sucking in the moment because he wants it to last forever.

But he’s learned the hard way that forever’s just a word, and everything’s black and there are real tears streaming down his face because he hasn’t done anything to deserve this torture, and he wants to strangle himself for never opening his eyes. 

*Hole in the middle of my heart like a polo*

Now they’re in his kitchen plates stacked messily in the sink, fajita sauce lining the table alongside extra tortilla wraps. There’s a loud sound coming from the direction of his companion, but his back is turned and the words are slurred and drowned by a loud banging in his head and he realizes they’re having their first ever fight. He hears himself, crystal clear, screaming back that maybe this won’t work, maybe it’s not meant to be and theres tears of fury in his eyes and his hands are shaking when he screams that this hurts too much to work for because if no ones ever going to know we’re going to crash and burn and my hearts already empty and I miss you already but I love you too much to fall out of love with you he doesn’t say.

He was expecting the blackout this time, but it didn’t make it any less painful and he just wishes the other boy had turned around but he hadn’t, and there’s nothing Niall can do to change that. 

*Can we stop this for a minute, I can tell that your heart isn’t in it or with it*

They’re in London now, and they’ve rented a flat out for the night because the other boys have gone home to visit their families but Ireland’s too far away and Niall couldn’t go and he decided to stay back with him and this flat really is special. The rooms just a bed, a big, fluffy, white bed in a white room with a small passageway on the left hand-side made for two. The walls encase the three sides of the bed but the end is embellished in a large, glass window replacing a wall. They’re on the 23rd floor and the houses are minute and small, and the buildings look like little fairy-lights twinkling in the dusk and the London Eye spins faintly in the distance and the Big Ben stands tall in all it’s glory and Niall remembers thinking that this really is the most beautiful city in the world. And he remembers laying in bed, warm under the duvet with his warmth spreading through him like fireworks, sparkling in the darkness. There was no light, but there was no need because the city kept everything at just the right amount of brightness and his eyes were the only brightness Niall needed, has ever needed, anyway. He remembers whispering sweet nothings into each others ears, their small talk, about how giraffes got their spots and if they thought parallel universes really did exist and the bigger matters, like when they would come out as a couple to the band, and how they’d both mutually agreed that it should be soon, that hiding it was too difficult and he just remembers the beautiful silence where the only sound was each others breaths and the beat of their hearts in perfect time while the cars and the city lights dimly lit up the sky, reminding him that the world never, ever went to sleep and tonight- they were it’s kings. 

It’s black again, and the tears are streaming incessantly down his face and he wishes the light had been bright enough that he would have seen his face. 

*We can both remove the masks*

They’re at Louis’ flat now, sitting in a circle in the living room, and everyones faces are tired and weary and Niall realizes it’s only 7 in the morning and this is a day he’s never forgotten. He remembers turning to his bandmates, to a disgruntled Zayn and worried Liam, and telling them that he’s not who they think he is he doesn’t like girls and he’s in love with his best friend and they don’t want to wear these masks anymore, they’re tired of keeping it a secret. He remembers their mouths opening into careful O’s in sync, remembers their eyes widening and cheeks flushing because they had not been expecting that. He remembers feeling the heat radiate off him remembers how he scooted his hand over Niall’s and clutched it tight, remembers peeking at those dimpled cheeks that were red like a candy-apple. 

But the red turns to black and Niall’s really sobbing because if only he had peeked a little bit higher.

*You’ll never know how to make it on your own*

The music’s louder now, it’s no longer faint but pushing it’s lyrics into his ears, forcing some meaning into his heart. He’s sitting at a table for five, the table full of wine and alcohols and he remembers this being their first time at the Brit Awards. He’s drunk now, drunk and home and he’s there and standing at Niall’s fridge pulling all the food out. Niall remembers filling a cup of water cheekily and throwing it over his friend, turning to dart away before he could return the favour. He runs to his bedroom and he hears his younger friend following distinctly behind and he closes the door but he’s already halfway inside and he’s clambering onto the bed and pinning Niall down, pressing his lips ferociously onto Niall’s. He’s clutching at Niall’s hair and his teeth are pulling harshly at the nape of Niall’s neck and he can feel the blood rushing around as his blood vessels burst be he really doesn’t give a flying shit. He remembers ruffling his fingers through his bandmates curls, tangling them in their voluminous beauty, remembers the blazers and polo shirts being tossed around the room in careless velocity, remembers the metal clang of belt buckles and zippers being unzipped and fingers tracing gently down pale torso’s. He remembers the first time they made love like the day One Direction was formed, he remembers the careful tendency with which he entered him, the soothing voices, the cautious hums, the excruciating climax. 

A climax with which his mind went black, and he remembers especially how that was the first and last time he’d ever climaxed like that. 

*You’ll never show weakness for letting go*

The music is still growing, drumming inside his mind and they’re in a plane- their private jet, he remembers. He’s sauntering across a cream leather seat, clutching his ribs in fits of laughter induced by the Simpson’s playing on his TV screen. Louis and Zayn sit infront of him, playing FIFA on the xbox that they’d somehow managed to hook up to the tv, whooping at each other in simultaneous victories. Liam was sitting to his side, probably twitcamming he remembers thinking. He is next to him, sleeping innocently on Niall’s shoulder, chest moving in rhythmic beats as his lungs expanded, and deflated. His lips were pursed into a soft line and his cheeks were flushed with the youth a teenager has. His hair was splayed across his forehead in a chocolate mess and his fingers were loosely intertwined with Niall’s. Niall remembers trying his best not to move, to keep his breathing rate to a minimum, anything really to not disturb his friends slumber. But what strikes him the most is when he looks at his sleeping body and sighs in content wishing only that he would see him, every day like this forever by his side. 

When the the memory faded into black, he laughed manically through his sobs because he never realised the irony that last thought would hold. 

*My kiss can mend your broken heart*

The music is loud now, like when his iPod is on half volume. He remembers their day off in Miami, how they’d run away from the hotel to the lonely deserted beach they’d seen on the way. He remembers the frantic phone calls and the angry voicemails from Paul, telling them to come back right now or I’ll never let you outbut more importantly he remembers taking a front-faced picture of them poking their tongues out and sending it back to him in response. He remembers the sun setting, it’s ambient rays shining angels in it’s beauty, lighting up the desolate beach. He remembers the absolute blue of the sea, the infinite line of the horizon, the sound of the waves crashing rapidly on the shell-filled sand; crashing like them, absolute like love and infinite like the nothing that stood in their way. He remembers a large hand creeping onto his chest, stopping on his left side crater. He remembers lips touching his ears, whispers floating through his mind, I love you. You’re my other half and as long as we’re together, we are infinite. 

He wakes with the last wave, big and frightening and the serenity is lost. 

*I can lend you broken parts that might fit*

The music is still building, like Beethoven, the orchestra climbing to their climax. They’re on stage and it’s their Take Me Home tour, new stadiums, new backdrops and new fans mixed with the old. They’re backstage and Niall wishes he was there, but he’s on the other side and it just doesn’t feel right. The music builds, the band’s started playing and Liam’s voice is bursting through the drums and there’s a wild cheer from the audience as they rise to their feet and everyone’s screaming and the lights are blinding and he’s just so dazed that Niall forgets to look at him. And when he remembers he’s taken the front of the stage and he’s singing his heart out and Niall stops moving and just listens because the melody of his voice warms him like nothing else; more than even hot chocolate and whipped cream by a crackling fire. He looks at Zayn whose eyes are shining in incredulance and his legs are wobbly because what did he ever do to have so many people love him like they do? He thought that maybe, just maybe he was the happiest teenager on earth. Or that at least he’d make the top ten.

When the lights dim, he’s too numb to cry, too numb to do anything because it’s sickly funny how the world works, isn’t it?

*And I will give you all my heart*

He’s sitting at home, waiting for him to come home- they have separate flats but they’ve barely ever not spent the night together. There’s a Manchester United vs Chelsea game on TV, so he’s actually quite surprised that he isn’t home earlier, because if Niall wasn’t a good enough reason to pull him home the game most certainly was. Niall isn’t sure what time he falls asleep, but somewhere between 12am and 7:30 his mind gives in and he can’t wait up any longer; he just knows that theres only one pair of shoes on the doormat and one coat hanging on the coat hanger and the second plate of shepherds pie remains untouched. 

It’s 7:23am when he gets the call- his phones still in his pockets and he’s sprawled uncomfortably across the couch but the loud buzzing wakes him up and he’s surprised to see Anne’s name lighting up. His eyes flash to the door and his heart skips a beat when he realizes the food is still the way it was; cold and full and now he’s scared. He remembers the details more vividly than anything in his life, the Niall, come quickly- he’s in hospital followed by his running out of the flat with nothing but his keys and his phone, shoes left stranded at the door, shivering in the freezing air and not minding it in the slightest. He remembers parking at the hospital and running towards it’s entrance like a maniac, remembers the stagnant stench of bleach that poisoned his nose, remembers Anne Cox standing puffy eyed in the waiting room. He remembers running into her arms, and falling apart, knowing Harry wasn’t just down with the flu. He remembers asking her what happened between gagging breaths, spluttering and coughing as the other boys joined him, worry etched into their faces. I don’t know, the doctor will be here soon. He remembers pacing, pacing incessantly across the white tile, spitting at the blinding light throughout the room; even closing his eyes was light and he had no escape. He remembers a tall man in blue scrubs and glasses walking towards Anne, I’m Dr Morrison he says, but Niall doesn’t care, all he cares about is the boy he’s here for so he drowns out the rest, until his ears finally perk up. We found him on the side of a road, he’d hit his head and passed out, he’s fine physically but he suffered a terrible bout of hypothermia Niall’s breathing is laboured but he sighs in relief, because hypothermia’s not too bad, people survive. But the doctor doesn’t stop, he continues and now Niall’s scared because it wasn’t just hypothermia. He went into cardiac arrest about ten minutes after we brought him here, and we stabilised him but his heart is too weak to beat on it’s own. We’ve put him on life support so you can say your goodbyes. And that’s all Niall remembers hearing before he blacks out.

He expects to be back in his room but he’s not, he’s still deep within his memory. He’s awake now, and he’s in a room and there’s an eerie his of a ventilator somewhere nearby. It takes him a few seconds to remember and when he does he’s on his feet and his eyes aren’t ready for the sight infront of him. He’s on a white hospital bed, eyes closed, chest moving up and down and for all Niall knew he could have been asleep. But there was a big machine running his heart and his skin was white as paper and his cheeks didn’t look like candy apples anymore and that’s when Niall begins to cry. Big, heaving sobs that rack his heart and he holds on to his best friends hand, clutching it in agony, in the ferocity of his pain and absolute, infinite love because now isn’t the time to say goodbye and you have to wake up, you promised me scrambled eggs on toast tomorrow and you never saw Man U smash Chelsea and I have the highlights recorded specially for you. But the boy doesn’t stir, and Niall knew it was over because if there was one thing he always woke up to, it was Niall’s voice and now Niall was screaming, pleading, and he wasn’t moving. Niall remembers removing his necklace and placing it in his hands, telling him to look after the sea for me, because that’s you+me and moving away wishing that there was some way in which he would be able to carve out his heart and give the whole thing to him. He remembers the exact second the doctor pulled the plug, watching in helpless desperation as he took his last breath. He remembers everything fading then, remembers his life slipping slowly out of his hands as if he had taken it with him, and remembers the faint conversation in the background; sorry what was the young boys name? The doctor was asking a crying Anne, Robin’s tough shoulders holding her tightly.

Harry Styles. 

*Like this*

The music is excruciatingly loud, too loud for his ears but there is nothing he can do. This was his last memory, because he is back in his bedroom, crying, heaving huge sobs into his pillow, his whole body racking in their immensity. He doesn’t know what he’s done to lose what was most precious to him in the whole world. He doesn’t know why, he couldn’t see hi- Harry’s face when all he needs is that Cheshire grin to pull him out of this hole. The music is so loud that he almost doesn’t hear the soft cough, the throaty chuckle from beside his bed. He looks up through tear rimmed eyes, focusing on a familar pair of black leather knee-padded jeans, a navy blazer, the signiture white t-shirt. He moves his eyes further, sure he’s back in a memory but knowing he physically isn’t. Moving his eyes and landing on Harry’s face his wide smile crooked and white, lips lifting off ivory molars to reveal identical dimples that dent his cheeks. Niall jumps in surprise, almost hitting the ceiling; he’d been longing to see this face in his mind for months and now he was standing right infront of him and Niall’s scared, His eyes are a blazing green, and Niall thinks that if he wanted to describe them he would have to fill a jar with every diamond in the world and hold it up to the moonlight. They’re deep and receding like the ocean and Niall just wants to jump, to let go of everything in this world and dive into their depths, explore them the way Harry and Niall used to explore each other. His curls are splayed and messy and Niall thinks that he probably only takes 2.6 seconds to do his hair in heaven too. Niall his heart leaps because he’s been longing for 8 months now to just hear that voice say his name one more time, and he’s sobbing again because this can’t be real, this will only leave him even more broken than he was before and no one will be around this time to help him pick up the pieces. But he can’t help but respond when he’s looking into those eyes and 

is it really you Harry

slips out of his mouth before he can stop it because he wants so desperately for him to keep talking, keep hearing his voice, to keep himhere as long as he can.

Yes Nialler it’s me, but its absolutely freezing in here can you get the windows mate? 

And Niall jumps out of bed, and slams down the window, turning the heater on full blast, anything for Harry, anything for him to be happy and safe. 

What- how are you back 

his voice is bewildered, exhausted with the events of the night, ecstatic because he’s here.

I never left, Niall 

Harry responds calmly, distinct Cheshire drawl slipping into his words. 

Don’t bloody lie to me Harry, eight months you’ve been gone, eight months I haven’t had any sight of you so don’t tell me you’ve fucking been here because in a few minutes you’re just going to leave again, anyway 

and now Niall’s furious because how dare Harry come back and give him hope just to take it away and if he could do this all along why did he wait eight months and 

no Niall, I’ve always been here- you’re the one that left. The one that refused to remember. 

Niall looks up and he’s crying again

Harry don’t leave, please don’t leave me again 

he pleads, his body racking with sobs once more.

It’s up to you Ni- it always has been. You have to bring them back, all the memories they need to come back, you can’t keep hiding them, forcing yourself to forget. 

And Niall’s always believed everything Harry said, always done everything he told him to, and so he closed his eyes and tried to remember.

He wills himself with all his might, opening his heart to everything he’d locked inside it. And then they come back, the playful laughter, the stolen kisses and midnight snacks, the fights, the mischief, and the end. And he opens his eyes and Harry is sure as hell sitting on his bed ruffling his hair like always, cheeky smile playing on his lips, green eyes beckoning him, luring him. And Niall takes a deep breath and steps over the edge, diving into the realm of the infinite. 

*So we can start it all over again.*


End file.
